


Flower Crown

by KestrelShrike



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Arlathan, F/M, Feels, Flower Crowns, Fluff, Romance, trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-12
Updated: 2015-03-12
Packaged: 2018-03-17 13:34:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3531179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KestrelShrike/pseuds/KestrelShrike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mornings spent discussing Arlathan, and a gentle tolerance for the Inquisitor's little quirks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flower Crown

There were days when there was no fighting, when time seemed to stop and give them the smallest space to simply breathe and exist. Corypheus was a constant, looming threat, but there were days where nothing could be done, where they all simply waited to hear from scouts, waited for weapons to be forged and plans to slowly launch themselves into a stuttering, jerking motion. She would always be the Inquisitor, but there were days where she felt more like Lavellan than like the title.

Given space, to breathe, Lavellan inevitably sought out Solas. Their relationship had started with hesitation, but it had blossomed into something comfortable. She could wake in the morning and know that he would still be curled beside her, limbs entangled with her own. He hadn’t vanished into a Fade dream. He was a physical presence as much as a mental one, and the unexpected weight of it brought her greater comfort than she could have ever imagined. 

The sun was shining down onto her balcony, bathing both of them in a soft light that did just enough to dispel the growing chill in the air. Every day was a little bit colder. The last of the little wildflowers that bloomed in every crack in Skyhold sat in a jar on the table she had dragged outside, their cheerful yellow faces pointed towards the sun. Soon they too would vanish, and winter would set in properly. Only the herbs would last, and while they had medicinal value, their beauty left something to be desired. 

Lavellan sat across from Solas in a comfortable silence. He stared out over the mountains, sipping some hot concoction he had made. The taste had been far too sweet for her, but he liked it well enough, and he said it had nothing in it to keep him awake at night. Even now, with all that was going on, he still wandered the Fade, going places she could not follow. There was a distance she did not think she would ever understand. 

There are certain benefits to taking a lover that who is bald. One of them is that a flower crown looks simply striking on him. Feeling younger than she had in years, the Inquisitor’s fingers weaved in and out of the stems, tying them together as she tried to subtly eye up the size of Solas’ head. It was rather big. 

“Will you tell me more about Arlathan?” Nothing distracted him more than speaking about the world as it once was, as if he had personally been there. She didn’t mind hearing either- it was fascinating. Her curiosity and hunger to learn more, always more, might well have been what attracted him to her in the first place. 

Startled out of his reverie, he turned to her and smiled, raising an eyebrow as he saw the flowers slowly transforming beneath her sure hands. If he had any objections, he didn’t raise them. 

“They built the city into the trees. It was crystal, as I mentioned before, but the way it integrated into the forest was a feat of engineering that almost escapes explanation. Where the trees provided shade, the crystal was always cool, always relaxing. Mages made themselves comfortable in sheltered crevices, as they explored magic for weeks at a time, never needing to wake or move. Above, the trees were an ocean. The sun hit the crystal. It would have dazzled mortal eyes, but it was a beauty that seemed natural to the Elvhen. Some would meditate on the balconies for hours at a time, watching the leaves wave back and forth, birds darting up like so many fish.” He closed his eyes when he spoke, falling into memory in a way that seemed personal. If it had been possible for an elf to still be alive from those days, Lavellan would have believed he had been there. He must have seen it all in the Fade. 

“Many of the spires were libraries. Not how you would imagine them to be now. So much of our knowledge then was oral, as it is now. It wasn’t controlled by a single Keeper.” He couldn’t keep the disdain toward the Dalish out of his voice, but for once she did not stop him. He seemed too happy just then, eyes still closed. 

“Instead, you had teachers and guides. They were there to debate and instruct. They had all the time in the world- why rush about? Nothing moved as quickly as it did today.” 

“That must have been a luxury.” Solas gave a small noise of assent, opening his eyes slowly. 

“Well, are you going to put it on me?” He truly tolerated her, something that never failed to make Lavellan smile. Leaning forward, she gravely put the finished product on him, the yellow bright against his pink toned skin. He looked unspeakably regal, not as silly as she had imagined, and his small half-smile, uncertain but loving, only added to the picture. Leaning forward, she kissed him softly, and then they did not speak again of Arlathan for a while.


End file.
